


everybody shake a hand

by juliusschmidt



Series: harry, you little shit [8]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Friendship, Internalized Misogyny, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misogyny, Possessive Behavior, Scent Marking, Scenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So all five of them know, now, that Harry's an omega.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everybody shake a hand

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series and you should start at the beginning ([x](http://archiveofourown.org/works/946132)).
> 
> HEY! Sorry for the delay. Your encouragement, even the more hostile and melodramatic commentary, was very appreciated. Really. Keep it coming. ;) 
> 
> Many thanks to [cheekysstyles](http://cheekysstyles.tumblr.com), for the amazing beta work. She's perfect and all the mistakes are mine. 
> 
> The title is from 'The Friendship Train' by Gladys Knight and the Pips ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tn9p_mTHEEM)).
> 
> **Warning:** I've tagged 'misogyny' for a reason. The fic is about to get even worse in terms of some of the gender prejudice stuff. Louis in particular is painfully not perfect about it. And there's not a lot sex to make up for the angst, not for the next three parts or so. Some, but not a lot, although it's _always_ in the background.

Harry wakes up to the smell of bacon and the sound of  _ quite  _ insistent knocking. He turns over, moving his legs experimentally. His hole itches and the dried fluids pull painfully at the hair on his arse and thighs. The worst is over, though, Harry thinks. 

And bacon sounds amazing. He’s so hungry. 

He manages to untangle himself from his bedsheets and walk to the door. When he opens it, Niall’s there with a tray of food from the hotel’s breakfast room. 

“Brought you breakfast,” he says, nodding to the tray. “Thought you might be hungry.” 

He’s right, of course. In fact, the intensity of Harry’s hunger this morning surprises him. Sure, he’s a growing boy or whatever, but this feels like something different, something  _ heat  _ related. Another thing he can add to the list of weird shit no one told him to expect. 

Harry sets the food down on the empty bed and tucks in greedily. He doesn’t remember eggs being this tasty.  

While he’s chewing his second rasher of bacon, Harry remembers everything that had happened at the studio. He remembers that Niall  _ knows _ . 

Suddenly, his nakedness seems inappropriate. Not that Niall is going to  _ do  _ anything to him. More like it’s wrong of  _ Harry  _ to have invited him in without being considerate enough to put on clothes. Well, he reasons, Niall’s seen him barearsed dozens of times in the past. 

And Harry’d just been  _ so  _ hungry, too hungry to think straight He’s  _ still  _ hungry. He pulls the duvet over his lap and hopes that’s enough. 

Niall hasn’t said anything. He’s sat himself on Harry’s mess of a bed, which Harry’s certain  _ reeks _ , and flipped on the television. Niall’s a little behind in the hormone game and usually Harry doesn’t experience his feelings, not the way he does with Louis and Zayn, at least. 

Right now, Harry feels Niall’s presence like an ache: he’s hurt. 

Harry looks down at his plate, which, actually,  _ shit _ , he should not be eating. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have eaten this.” Reluctantly, he pushes the tray to the other side of the bed and looks around for the room service menu. “You’re an unbonded alpha and I’ve just had my heat.” 

Niall grimaces, eyes trained steadily on the television. “Really? What’s going to happen? What’ll happen if you eat food I brought you?” 

He sounds genuinely curious. The thing is, Harry isn’t sure what will happen. The gender books Harry’d read always named it as a rule-  _ after a heat, an omega should only eat food from her bondmate _ \- but, as far as he could remember, they hadn’t said  _ why _ it was rule. Harry’s gender specialist certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about it, not even when he’d gone over, in embarrassing detail, the logistics of bonding. 

It’s in all the films and novels, too. Alphas make sure their omegas are fed well after their heats. (So maybe the hunger shouldn’t be surprising, after all.) It’s just the way things are: alphas provide food for their omegas. Another alpha stepping in would be  _ wrong _ . 

“It’s just a  _ thing,  _ isn’t it? A bondmates thing? And we’re not bondmates,” Harry tells him. 

The hurt Niall’s projecting deepens, intensifying such that Harry can’t ignore it anymore. “It’s not you or anything. I’m sure you’d be a great bondmate,” he clarifies. 

Niall still hasn’t turned to look at him, but Harry sees his interest and the weight he’s placing on Harry’s statement in the set of his jaw and the not-quite-casual shrug of his shoulders. “Yeah?” 

Harry nods. Slowly, he says, “I think if, well, if things were different, like, than they are. I might want to bond with you. It’d be sick, probably.” 

Harry’s being honest, too. Niall’s so laid back, so trusting. He’d probably let Harry do mostly whatever he wanted. He might let Harry keep performing and even get a few tattoos. If Harry wanted an alpha, he’d want one like Niall. 

Niall’s watching the television again, but Harry can feel his anticipation heighten. He probably wants Harry to finish up and close out the possibility of them.

“But like—“ 

Niall interrupts him, “We’re not going to hurt you or throw ourselves at you or anything like that. You should  _ know  _ that. We’re alphas, not evil lad-eating monsters.” The words are quick, but careful. Harry thinks he might have practiced them. 

Harry spots the menu, then, but he’s still naked and doesn’t fancy venturing nude across the room to grab it. “I know, it’s um. But it’s scary to talk about,” he admits. 

Niall nods. “Okay.” 

“I’m not going to, like, throw myself at you, either,” Harry promises. Taking into consideration what he’d told him about making a good bondmate, he thinks it’s necessary to clarify. 

Niall shrugs, “You could try, but it won’t work. I like pretty omega girls, no offence. And Louis, he probably would um, you know...” 

Harry looks back at the tray. If he and Niall aren’t in danger of bonding and no one else knows about it, Harry’s probably okay eating the breakfast after all. He slides it back toward himself and picks a strawberry off the top of the fruit bowl.

Harry takes a bit of the strawberry. “What were you saying about Louis?”  

And, then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “Does he hate me, now?” 

Niall regards him closely and then shrugs. “He’s mad, yeah. Too mad to even look at you, he said.” 

Harry pouts and pushes around the few bites of eggs still on his place, much less hungry now. “He’ll make them kick me out of the band.” 

“Will not,” Niall fires back, immediately. “I think he was mostly worried. He really cares about you. I mean, he picked out all this food and asked me to take it up.” 

Harry drops his fork. Louis’d provided the food.  _ Of course _ , he had. Of fucking course. 

Abruptly, he says, “Um, thanks for the food, Niall, but I really need a shower now, so, uh, maybe you could…?” 

He drops off, realizing he’s not sure what the etiquette is here. Is he allowed to make requests of alphas? 

Niall grins at him. “I’ll leave, mate,” he says. “But promise you’ll finish that up. You haven’t eaten properly in two days.” 

“It’s been two days?” Harry asks, a little stunned.

Niall nods and walks to the door.  

Harry’s last heat had only lasted about 24 hours in total. Heats vary from person to person, the specialist had said, but they usually even out, staying consistent after the first few times. Harry had hoped he’d lucked out and ended up on the  _ very  _ short side. Apparently, maybe not. 

“Later,” Niall says. 

~

That afternoon they have to return to the studio for a recording of some sort. It was supposed to have happened the day before so that they could have at least a few hours on their last day to shop and sightsee on the strip. Harry’s heat had meant rearranging things. It’s a pattern he figures the band will have to get used to. 

Harry takes his time getting ready, wanting to wash himself clean of the smell of his heat. He’s also a little nervous about seeing all other boys at once. Things had gone well with Niall, but Niall’s… well, he’s  _ Niall _ . Chill, and not, like, fully into puberty, even. 

The other boys- save Zayn- are already loaded into the van when Harry finally makes his way outside. Liam’s taken the front and Louis’ commandeered the back bench, while Niall’s in the middle. He usually sits beside Louis, but things are different now. Probably. Harry looks between the two benches and begins to panic. His seat choice here seems very important. 

He  _ kindofsortofmaybe  _ wishes one of them (Louis) would make the decision for him. 

After a moment, Louis calls out, “Get in, Hazza,” at the same time as Niall says, “I read up on omegas after breakfast this morning.” Harry laughs, feeling genuinely appreciative of Niall’s interest, and moves to sit next him. 

“Yeah?” Harry asks. “Learn anything?” 

Niall nods. “Did you know that omegas don’t shit for the twenty-four hours before or after their heats? Doesn’t that get uncomfortable?”

Harry thinks about his morning. “I can tell you that is absolutely not true.” He searches for the seatbelt, but can’t find it. He thinks it might have slipped underneath the seats. 

Niall replies, “How about this: your refined sense of smell makes you an excellent cook.” 

“I don’t think that has anything-“ A shiny buckle appears beside Harry and he realizes that Louis’ found the seatbelt and pushed it into place for him. When he reaches for it, their fingers brush and Harry’s stomach  _ flutters  _ with rightness. He’s  _ missed  _ Louis. 

His eyes meet Louis’. The moment, the  _ feeling,  _ that passes between them is charged with expectation, but it’s broken abruptly by Zayn pulling the door open and clambering inside. 

Instead of moving back to sit beside Louis like he should do, Zayn shoves gently at Harry’s shoulder. “Budge over, yeah?” 

He and Harry and Niall are pressed close together, shoulders, thighs, feet touching. Eyes closed, Zayn lays his head against the back of the seat and exhales loudly. His hair brushes Harry’s neck and Harry shivers. 

Zayn says, “Fuck, Harry, can I just say, you smell fantastic this morning. Very fresh.” 

Harry feels his face heat. Before he can respond, Louis mutters, “No, you can’t say. That’s very rude, Zayn.” His voice is tight. 

Zayn opens one eye to watch Harry. Harry thinks he looks a bit silly, but also very beautiful. “He likes it,” Zayn tells Louis. And Harry does, even if it  _ is _ rude. Zayn’s  _ okay _ to talk about Harry’s scent. Harry trusts Zayn. 

Louis kicks the back of the seat, right between Zayn and Harry, hard enough that they both wince. 

~

Someone, a techie maybe, meets them at the van and rushes Harry through the studio and into the recording booth quickly, ahead of the other boys. Apparently, they’re already late and they  _ need  _ Harry to start on his bit. 

The thing is, Harry’s unfamiliar with the music they give him and he keeps messing up the melody, taking it up at the end of the final line instead of down.  A dark haired man pulls him out into the hall after the third do-over. 

He’s an alpha. His rich scent passes over Harry as he moves in just a tad closer than is polite. Hand heavy on Harry’s shoulder, thumb pressing into the bare skin at the base of Harry’s neck, he says, “I know you haven’t been feeling well the last couple of days, kid, but you’re sounding great. I know you can nail this. Once you’ve finished, we have a treat for you.” 

The man leers a little. It makes his promise sound more lecherous than it actually is. Harry knows the ‘treat’ is meeting someone famous, an artist they know and like maybe, because the other boys had learned about it yesterday and speculated about who it might be all the way to the studio this morning. 

Someone coughs and catches Harry’s attention. Over the man’s shoulder Harry sees Louis. 

“Can I speak to Harry?” The man tenses and Louis adds, “I did this yesterday. I’ve got some advice.” 

Louis doesn’t give the man a chance to answer before wrapping his fingers around Harry’s wrist. Harry shrugs and allows himself to be dragged into the loo. 

It’s the same place they’d last gotten off together and the memories come back to Harry in bold flashes, almost as though they’ve been painted across the walls. He wonders if they’re about to make some more memories of the same kind. He sort of hopes so. And he sort of hopes not. Now that everyone knows what’s happening, now that  _ Louis  _ knows what’s happening, the potential for accidental bonding seems much higher and they should maybe, like,  _ stop _ . 

Harry meets Louis gaze, suddenly desperately curious where he’s at with all this. Louis’ eyes are intent and his smile is soft. 

“Harry, how are you feeling?” He asks. “That guy is an arse for pestering you. I’ve heard it can be, erm,  _ uncomfortable _ the day after, well, you know. Is your bottom, like…?” 

He’s speaking so quietly, so sweetly. Harry’s never heard him use this tone before, except maybe once when he was on the phone with one of his baby sisters. 

It’s nice, but it’s also really weird. Harry’s not sure how to respond. 

“I’m fine,” he tells Louis. “Everything’s cool. That’s not the first time, or anything.” It’s not quite a lie. He’s been in heat before.  Once. 

Louis brushes a curl back from Harry’s temple and then touches Harry’s cheek. The gesture pulls at something inside Harry and he feels his lips part. Louis smells so wonderful. Harry wants to kiss him, just one soft press of lips, or maybe two, and then bury his face in his neck, soak him in. 

Louis lashes flutter as he asks again, “Are you sure you’re okay? Is there anything I can do? Anything I can get you? To make you more comfortable or anything?” 

Harry swallows and doesn’t answer. He’s trying to make sense of Louis’ question, to sort through what his offer means about their relationship. Is he really not mad at Harry at all? Does he think Harry’s more helpless or something? That Harry can’t take care of himself? 

Louis smiles, gentle and relaxed. “Zayn was right, too. You do smell good, though it was rude of  _ him _ to say.” 

“I’m fine,” Harry repeats. Then he adds, “You don’t need to, like, baby me or anything. Heat’s just part of life.” 

Louis’ eyebrows furrow. “I’m not trying to—“ 

But Harry’s not finished, “I’m not a different person now. And I don’t expect you to treat me differently. Everything’s just the same.” 

“Harry, I-“  

Harry doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want things to change. He wants Louis to stop being weird, different from before. 

Harry tries to turn and leave with a dramatic flip of his hair but Louis is still gripping his wrist and he doesn’t let go when Harry tries to pull free. 

“Lou, come on, let me go,” Harry says, cringing at how whiny it sounds. “I have to get back to recording.” 

“Fine. I see how it is,” Louis snaps. “Enjoy letting that dickface producer scent all over you. Clearly that’s your kind of thing.” 

It’s a shitty thing to say, so obviously false and it stings, especially coming from Louis. And Harry’s still reeling from it as he attempts a fourth, fifth, sixth, tenth take of the verse he’s recording. 

~

Harry’s plane ticket has him booked to sit beside Louis. They haven’t spoken since their encounter in the bathroom and Harry can’t stop replaying Louis’ implication that he,  _ Harry _ , was  _ that  _ kind of omega. Louis is the only alpha Harry’s ever gotten off with- the only alpha he’s so much as caressed. He  _ must  _ realize that and yet he still threw out that godawful insult. 

Harry decidedly is  _ not  _ going to spend eleven hours next to him. 

He’s first on the plane and he steals what he thinks is Zayn’s seat beside Niall because he and Niall have been getting on famously since their heart-to-heart. Zayn has been reasonably friendly, too, if a little flirtatious, so Harry’s pretty sure he won’t mind being usurped. Except Liam takes Harry’s seat change as notice of a free-for-all and plops down where Niall’s supposed to be. 

Harry pulls out his phone and earbuds, fiddling with the cords and trying to get an emotional read on Liam. From the start, Liam’s been the most difficult for Harry to  _ sense _ . Harry’s always receiving sunbursts of happiness or waves of anxiety or bolts of anger from the other three alphas. He’s especially keen to Louis’ feelings, even now. But Liam’s a mystery, seemingly perfectly controlled. Harry thinks it’s quite a contrast to the way he sometimes blurts out thoughtless insults or fails to cover ill-timed giggles. 

Liam’s been frowning at Harry for the last twenty four hours, with considerably less heat than Louis, but Harry hasn’t felt a single prick of anger. He decides to give Liam until the plane takes off to start a conversation, then he’s putting on music and trying to fall asleep. 

He doesn’t have to wait long. After he’s flipped through the Skymall catalogue, eyes lingering on the expensive watches and cufflinks, Liam turns in his seat to face Harry. 

In a rush of breath, he says, “Maybe you should take some time off, you know, to think about what’s best for you and the band.” 

Harry hunches his shoulders and chews his lip. He can’t look at Liam, doesn’t want to see the worry furrowing his eyebrows. Harry knows he’s probably right. 

Liam continues, voice growing more firm, “Maybe you’ll see it’s not worth it, all the bad stuff. It’s a lot of bad stuff that could happen, Harry, obviously, because you’re not going to be able to keep  _ heats  _ a secret, not on tour, you know? Or maybe you could get proper bonded and come out. I mean, people might think that’s okay. A few other bands’ve done it, like, um, Stanley Macks from Flywood Nic?” 

“Stevie Nicks from Fleetwood Mac,” Harry corrects automatically. He  _ has _ read up on her, a lot, like everything on Wikipedia. 

“Yeah, her,” Liam agrees. “She bonded with her bandmate and then played the omega seductress, right? You could do, too.” 

Harry groans. “It only worked because someone in her band  _ wanted  _ to bond with her. And, actually, Liam, it didn’t turn out so well for them.” 

Liam’s forehead scrunches, “Bet she made a shitload of money, though. All I’m saying is it could work for you and Louis, for us. It’d be convenient.” 

Harry closes his eyes. This is the type of argument he has in his most exhausting nightmares. Harry replies softly, suddenly aware of the four strangers seated around them in first class. “I’m not going to bond with Louis, or anyone, out of convenience. I mean, that’s not how bonds work anyway, is it? Like, you’ve got to want it, right?” 

Harry feels Louis, then, in a sharp spark of hurt, coming from behind him, and knows he’s listening to Harry and Liam’s conversation.  He doesn’t want Louis to think it’s him that’s done wrong. It’s  _ not _ Louis that Harry’s rejecting. 

“I don’t want to bond with anyone. Not right now, at least.” It’s feels good to say it aloud. Everyone can be on the same page, Harry’s page. Liam laughs. 

“That’s stupid.” Harry thinks that any person who can’t remember Stevie Nicks’ name probably has no place directing the word ‘stupid’ at others.  

But, despite the support he’s gotten from Simon and from Cal, after his own carelessness and inattention had led to the onset of his heat creating a mess at the recording studio just as they were about to seal a  _ very important  _ deal, Harry thinks Liam might have a point. 

He’s a risk for Simon, for the band, for himself. He tucks his hands underneath his thighs and continues to avoid Liam’s gaze. 

Finally Liam says, “Harry, you need to be realistic. Name one person, one  _ famous  _ person, who’s an unbonded out omega. Like, a hip person, not someone old.” 

Harry’s got this, though. “Nick Grimshaw.” 

Liam looks affronted. “You’re kidding. He’s well...  _ you know _ . And, anyway, he’s been bonded before.” 

“He’s not bonded now,” Harry insists. He likes listening to Grimmy on the radio. He’s very funny, and Harry hopes he’ll interview the band soon. Harry’d like to, maybe, make friends or something. 

Liam leans forward, so close that Harry can’t not look at him. “Harry, he’s a joke. My mum says he lets celebrities fuck him in exchange for interviews.” 

Harry thinks that’s a little crude and probably untrue. How would someone like Liam’s mum know something so intimate about a stranger? From the papers? Cause, well, people have started to say lots of untrue things about their band in the papers.  He doesn’t say this, though. Instead, feeling a kinship to the radio host, he says, “So what if he does? Maybe he likes it. He’s probably got loads of money.” 

Liam stomps a foot, no doubt drawing the attention of everyone nearby. He says, “Is that how you want to make it, Harry? As a clown and a whore?” 

It stings when Liam puts it that bluntly. He’s not wrong, is the thing. Those just might be Harry’s primary options. 

Still, he says, “Simon thinks I can hide it.” 

Liam crosses his arms. “Good luck with that one, mate.” 

The way Liam says it, it’s like he’s not willing to help. And if there’s a chance for Harry pull this off, he’s going to need Liam’s help. Everyone’s help, really. 

The seatbelt light clicks on. Almost time for take-off. Harry feels a little queasy. He thinks a little of the nausea might be from Zayn, whose fingers are tapping against his arm rest, still uncertain of airplane rides. 

Harry might be able to make it better for him, calm him or at least distract him. He’s done it before. He says, “Zayn.” 

Zayn turns his head to peek at Harry between the seats. “Yeah?” 

Harry frowns, unsure exactly what to say. “What are you watching on the TV?” 

“I’m not-“ Zayn begins. Then he smiles, “Wait. You can feel what I’m feeling, yeah?” 

Harry tilts his head to the side and considers lying. It’s no use, it’s just what omegas do, so he nods. “Yeah. You’re  _ really  _ nervous.”

He winces, “Sorry.” 

Liam huffs. “Maybe we should switch, Zayn. You can cozy up to Harry. Maybe if you won’t have Louis, you’ll consider Zayn. Since you’re obviously, like,  _ vibing _ .” 

Harry laughs. It’s like Liam’s jealous or something. Which is ridiculous.  _ He’s  _ never commented on how Harry smells or touched him lingeringly or even sent him playful, promising grins. Just in case, Harry explains, “I can feel all alphas, not just Zayn.” 

Liam’s face falls into what Harry might describe as abject horror and panic. He begins to tremble. 

Harry reaches out to him, grabs his wrist and says, “Oh no, not you. Your control is perfect. A huge relief, actually.”

Liam swallows stiffly and tugs his wrist away. “Yeah. My control. Okay, excellent, yeah.” 

~

They hit turbulence over the Atlantic and Zayn’s discomfort skyrockets. It’s pretty rough, even for a ‘good and seasoned flyer’ like Harry and he can’t find it in himself to be impatient with Zayn for his anxiety. Louis is distressed as well, though, and the beef noodles Harry’d eaten a few hours earlier are threatening to come up. 

Thank fuck, Niall’s sleeping.

Harry shifts in his seat and reaches into his backpack for his water bottle. It’s empty.  _ Fuck. _ Harry takes several steadying breaths. The conditions are bad enough that the stewardesses are buckled in and it’s not like Harry can get up to go the bathroom. 

Harry’s stomach roils, panic worsening the nausea. 

He feels something cold bump the back of his arm. He turns and sees Louis’ hand wrapped around a half empty cup of ice water.  Louis is looking out the window, not at Harry, his jaw set and his eyes worried. Harry wants to tell him to close the shade- looking out at the clouds is only going to make him feel worse- but he’s not exactly inviting conversation. 

Harry takes the cup and murmurs, “Thank you.” 

Louis doesn’t reply, but his shoulders relax a little. 

~

Fans are waiting for them at the airport.  _ Real fans. _ Living, breathing girls, four or five of them in all, betas, giggling and shouting  _ for them _ .  One of them is carrying a ‘Harry’ sign, which is comforting. No matter how worried Liam is about the potential of his gender to create problems. The problems associated with him dropping out would be much more catastrophic for the band. Probably. 

He’s surprised when Louis sticks close to him. The heat of his body is familiar against Harry’s back and side, his smell wrapping around them both. Harry’s not sure how to respond. He’s still mad at him, hurt, really. And he has no fucking idea where their friendship stands, let alone the kind-of-more-than-friendship thing they’ve been doing.  

And yet his presence is centering. With him close, Harry feels a little more in control. Which in turn makes him feel less in control. 

He excuses himself for the bathroom. He doesn’t have to go, but he wants the space. The plane had had nearly a dozen alphas on it and Harry wants to clear his head. Maybe the other boys’ parents will have arrived to pick them up before comes out. He hopes so. 

He sits down on the toilet seat and turns on his phone. Someone else enters the room and Harry hears a tinkling at the trough, and then the sink turn on and off as the other man washes his hands. Harry doesn’t hear the door open and close again though and, despite the silence, it’s quite clear that he’s waiting, presumably for Harry. 

“Louis?” Harry asks, even though he doesn’t think that’s right. He’d be able to smell him. He can always smell Louis, even from yards away.

“It’s Zayn,” Zayn answers. “My hair’s shit. My mum’ll fuss.” 

Harry laughs and flushes the toilet, even though he hasn’t used it. “Your hair is never shit. And mums always fuss.”

Harry stands beside him, looking at their reflections in the mirror. 

Zayn says, “Liam’s wrong. I think it’s sick that you’re an omega. It’ll be an asset.” 

Harry relaxes. “An asset, you say?” He wiggles his bum, drawing a lingering leer from Zayn. Then he says, “Thank you.” 

Zayn turns and pulls Harry into his arms. The hug is tight, but smooth. They fit together well, and even though he’s not Louis, his smell comforts Harry. 

Against Zayn’s neck, Harry murmurs, “You don’t think I’m a slut, do you?” 

“If you were, we would definitely have already fucked,” Zayn tells him with a laugh. When Harry doesn’t join in, he pulls back to hold Harry’s face between his hands. “Who told you that? Who said you were a slut? Was it Liam? He doesn’t know shit about you.” 

Harry bites his lip trying to decide whether he should tell. He’d like Zayn on his side, but then again, Louis’d been acting  _ so strange _ . Maybe he was in some kind of mood. Maybe he would take it back. Everything between them had been so lovely, so  _ private _ , so  _ theirs _ , up till now.  

But Harry  _ hurts _ and things cannot go back to the way they were, not now that the band has to take into consideration his gender, so he says, “Louis kind of suggested it.” 

Zayn’s brows quirk in confusion. “But he’s crazy about you.” 

Harry shrugs. “Maybe not, now that he knows I’m an omega.”

“That makes zero sense. He should like you better now.” He pulls Harry back into a hug. 

Harry runs a hand down Zayn’s spine. “Do  _ you _ like me better now?”

“I do.”  The catch in his voice tugs at Harry, a thrilling pull low in his belly. 

Zayn noses Harry’s cheek and freezes. “You still smell like Louis.” 

Harry rehearses the day and he can’t think of a reason why that would be true. “We haven’t,” he begins.

Zayn cuts him off, “I won’t fuck around with someone who hasn’t showered in the last ten days.” He’s smiling and Harry doesn’t believe him. 

Harry untangles himself with a little, playful and totally inappropriate shove. 

“I didn’t ask you to fuck me.” Zayn’s eyebrows lift, challenging. He’s so beautiful. Harry bites his lip,“Not yet, anyway.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Next part should be up in approx 10 days- 2 weeks. It's finished, but I'm spacing out the posting because I don't think I'll be writing any more of this until July. I've got my HL Summerfest to finish and also other Very Important Life Things. ;) 
> 
> Come see me on tumblr: [juliusschmidt](http://juliusschmidt.tumblr.com). Say hi!


End file.
